


Kanaya vs. The Lavender Menace

by LumenInFusco



Series: Femslash Friday [6]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Activism, Alternate Universe - 1960s, F/F, Feminist Themes, First Kiss, Humanstuck, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2017-11-15
Packaged: 2018-06-09 22:04:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6925153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LumenInFusco/pseuds/LumenInFusco
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's the 60's and activism abounds all across the country, but Kanaya is far too focused on her schoolwork to get involved in anything political. But a chance encounter with a Women's Liberation activist is going to show her that "The Personal Is Political" is more than just a rallying slogan...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Chance Encounter

      “The increased gatherings of these so-called feminists do not openly welcome the company of men, and as such, it is difficult to discern exactly what goes on at these meetings. Reports have surfaced that these groups are primarily concerned with pursuing deviant lifestyles and disrupting the crucial social order that maintains the fabric of our strong society. In this reporter’s opinion, the best change that a woman can make is in how she shapes the next generation, from her home.”

      Kanaya pressed one hand to her temple as she tried to concentrate on the textbook in front of her. “Pardon me, but could I persuade you to turn that radio down?”

      “What for?” Cronus smirked from across the cafeteria table as he rolled the unlit cigarette to the other side of his mouth. “You’re not one a-those women’s lib types, are ya Kan?”

      Kanaya lifted her eyes to him. “I’m trying to study, and the cacophony of static and low-fidelity recordings of incorporeal voices is severely impeding my efforts.” She hoped that he wouldn’t notice that she hadn’t directly answered his question.

      “Nah, of course you ain’t,” Cronus chuckled. “You’re an old-fashioned type a-gal. Wouldn’t be caught dead marchin’ in those rallies, would ya?”

      Kanaya turned her eyes back to her book and had begun massaging her temple. “Guilty as charged,” she replied, hoping that he’d let the subject drop sooner if she allowed him to think she agreed with him.

      The radio, detached as it was from the conversation, continued its chatter. “As the National Organization for Women, or NOW as it’s coming to be called, continues to boast increased membership, we’re also seeing a growing number of women in our lovely state saying that the group's priorities are misguided, and that the best place for women in this modern era is still in the home.”

      A slightly less clear female voice came on the air. “They’re nothing but troublemakers, if you ask me. Lonely, angry spinsters who couldn’t find a good man and want to take it out on everybody else.”

      Kanaya did her best to keep from visibly rolling her eyes. “Cronus, please, I’ve worked hard to maintain a formidable grade point average, and I’d just as soon refrain from jeopardizing my record just because you couldn’t listen to the radio at a reasonable volume,” she said.

      “Hey, cool your jets, baby!” Cronus stood from his seat as he moved in behind Kanaya, leaning one hand against the table. “Tell you what: you come to the movies with me this Friday, and I’ll turn off my radio completely. How’s that sound?” He pivoted his cigarette to the other side of his mouth again.

      Kanaya sighed. “No thank you. I have a test on Monday and I need the weekend to study.”

      Cronus leaned in closer. “What’s the big deal? You got a steady or somethin’?”

      Overhearing these proceedings, another student spoke up: “Aw, just go on a date with him. Anything to shut that greaser up,” he said.

      Kanaya turned to face him. “If you must know, I prefer the company of people who are living in this decade, and not bound to the fashion and sensibilities of one that’s been over for almost ten years now.”

      Some other patrons of the cafeteria snickered among themselves. Cronus stood upright, fidgeting with the collar of his leather jacket. “Suit yourself, sweetheart. Got better things to do with my weekend anyway.” He took his seat and turned the volume of his radio up.

      “…So remember gentlemen, if you find that your secretary won’t do the filing, or if you go home to find that your wife hasn’t fixed your dinner, remember that you have no one to blame but yourselves. After all, you gave them the vote. This is WNKJ news, signing off.”

      Kanaya couldn’t help but tsk as she started packing her things into her book bag. She slung the strap over her shoulder headed for the door. Hopefully she could find a more peaceful location to study; the cafeteria was a bad choice anyway. She heard Cronus begin another parting shot, but paid it no mind as she left.

      Leaving the student union, Kanaya heard some sort of commotion happening in a nearby parking lot. She couldn’t make out any of what was being said, and tried to ignore it as she went about her business. It seemed as if everywhere she went these days, there was some group holding a demonstration for one cause or another. Growing up, she’d seen plenty of protests against the Vietnam war. As a teenager, she remembered seeing Martin Luther King Jr.’s speech after the march on Washington on her mother’s television set. And now, in her third year at college, she’d seen more activism than she could possibly keep track of, happening all around her.

      Her thoughts were interrupted by the ostentatious clearing of a familiar throat. “Miss Maryam! A moment, if you please?”

      Kanaya turned to face the voice’s source, instantly recognizing its owner. “Hello, professor English.”

      The elderly gentleman straightened his glasses. “I wanted to send you my compliments on the exemplary research paper you turned in. Simply extraordinary!” He tugged on the lapels of his suit.

      “Thank you, professor,” Kanaya nodded.

      “It’s always a delight to see your contributions to class discussions on historic geography translate so cleanly into your erudite manner of writing. Land sakes, what a thumping good read! It warms this old codger’s heart, it does,” he said, lightly beating on his chest.

      Kanaya smiled and averted her gaze, hoping she wasn’t blushing at the praise.

      “But then, you’ve always been a bright spot on this campus, haven’t you? Just like my granddaughter. Have I mentioned that I have a granddaughter around your age?”

      “You have, professor.” An average of once every week since they’d met, not that she was counting.

      “I have? Oh, fiddlesticks. It seems I can’t keep track of what I’ve told whom these days. My noggin’s not quite the steel trap it might have been in my youthful adventuring days. Certainly not like yours, or that of my dear young Jade. Sharp as a tack, both of you. Why, I’d bet my bottom dollar you’d get along famously!”

      “I’m certain that we would,” Kanaya said, fidgeting with her book bag. “I beg your pardon if I seem somewhat impatient, but as it happens I was hoping to get somewhere soon. Was there something else that you wanted to tell me?” she asked, shuffling her feet.

      “Hm? Oh, yes! I also wanted to tell you that I’ve submitted a letter of commendation to your personal record, pending your completion of the final exam. But I trust that won’t be a problem for you. You’ll do this old school proud, I’m sure of it. And should you decide to pursue graduate studies, the letter should prove to be quite the feather in your cap!”

      Kanaya blinked a few times as she felt her lips involuntarily curl into a smile. “Oh my goodness, thank you so much!”

      “Think nothing of it, my dear,” the professor smiled, causing the handlebars of his mustache to angle upwards. “I’ve always thought that it’s important for young ladies such as yourself to have a robust education. There’s no such thing as a woman who’s too well-read, don’t you agree?”

      “I most certainly do,” replied Kanaya, feeling her smile getting warmer and wider.

      “By jove, just think of all the wonderfully stimulating conversation you’ll be able to have with your husband someday!”

      The professor kept speaking, but Kanaya was no longer listening to the words he spoke. She blinked a few more times as her smile slipped from one of genuine warmth to one of forced complaisance.

      It wasn’t long before he noticed. “Oh dear,” he said, suddenly feeling the need to adjust his bowtie. “You’re giving me that look that my wife gives me whenever I say something boneheaded. She taught that look to all of my kids, too. Have I said something boneheaded? My stars and garters, I’m terribly sorry if I have.”

      Kanaya drew a breath. “It’s nothing, professor English. I am merely…brimming with gratitude over the letter of commendation.”

      “Oh my, yes, the letter of commendation!” he beamed. “Well you’ve certainly earned it. The gossip in the faculty lounge is that you’re on track to graduate _magna cum laude_. Not that I spend a lot of time flapping my gums about students when they’re not around, mind you. Smart as a whip, you are. Just like my granddaughter. Why, if the two of you ever met, I’m plum certain you’d be as thick as thieves!”

      “I’ll see you in class, professor.” Kanaya began making motions to leave. She knew that there was no stopping Professor Jake English once he was caught in one of his loops.

      “Take good care, my dear Miss Maryam. And keep up the good work. And try not to take whatever foul up I said earlier too personally. I do tend to make quite the buffoon out of myself on occasion.”

      “It’s alright, professor,” she replied, making pace so as to seem as if she was in a hurry.

      So concerned was Kanaya with getting away from the professor’s rambling that she wasn’t paying attention to where she was going. As it happened, she found herself unconsciously drawn to a distant collection of voices she recognized to be female. Before she was fully cognizant of where she was heading, she found herself at the demonstration she’d heard earlier. Before her stood a gathering of women, shouting slogans, waving banners, and distributing literature. She quickly inferred that this particular demonstration was protesting the difference in pay between female and male instructors at the university.

      This was the first time she’d ever actually gotten this close to one of these demonstrations. In truth, she’d always been curious as to what they might have been like.

      One of the women giving literature to passersby in particular seemed to have arrested her attention. Her blonde hair was being held in a neat bob with a headband, complementing the round shape of her face. She wore a scarf whose light purple shade matched that of her eyes, unusual so as to be striking, but gentle so as to be welcoming just the same. Below, a pastel blue dress clung tightly to her frame, stopping well above the knee. Completing the outfit, and utterly confounding Kanaya, was a pair of brown leather boots that clashed horribly with the rest of the ensemble. Kanaya could only wonder if the mismatch was intentional, given the way everything else seemed to work so nicely together.

      “Hey! Are you going to take one, or are you content just staring?”

      Kanaya felt a wash of embarrassment overtake her. She didn’t think she had been staring, but evidently her gaze had lingered long enough for this woman to take notice. “I-I apologize,” she stammered. “I didn’t mean to be rude.” She took the papers from the woman’s outstretched hand and looked it over quickly. It was a two-page mimeograph of a document simply titled “Equal Rights for Women”, by one Shirley Chisholm.

      “You can make it up to me by not throwing it out the minute you think I’m not looking,” the woman grinned.

      “Is that something that happens often?”

      “I’d say around half the time. Some of the more environmentally-conscious among us make a point of recovering as many as possible from the trash bins so they don’t go to waste.”

      Kanaya suddenly held the document at a distance from herself, her expression souring.

      The woman laughed despite herself. “Don’t worry,” she chuckled. “I pressed those myself this morning. I wouldn’t dream of handing you something that would sully that spectacular blouse you have on.”

      Kanaya felt her cheeks flush slightly as she reflexively glanced at her red top. She silently cursed herself for feeling so easily flustered. “T-thank you,” she finally said. “Both for the compliment, and for not giving me something you fished out of the garbage.” She straightened her posture and lifted her chin. “Though, it should be explicitly stated that the latter is hardly something I could consider to be an act worth any real measure of gratitude, if I’m being frank.”

      “Agreed,” the other woman replied, mildly amused. “Now, if you don’t mind me asking, is this the first time you’ve ever been to something like this on campus?”

      “It’s rather difficult to avoid these demonstrations,” Kanaya answered. “But I will readily admit that this marks the inaugural occasion in which I have actually interacted with one in a way that could be considered meaningful, if only minimally so.”

      “Then you honor me, ‘if only minimally so’,” the woman repeated with a smirk. She distributed another copy to another person walking by.

      Kanaya giggled. “It’s not to say that I’m completely uninterested, it’s just that I’ve simply been very focused on my studies. My continued attendance at this school is being sponsored in large part by a scholarship that demands a fairly stringent grade point average requirement, one that is no small feat to maintain.”

      “I can certainly understand,” the woman began. She lifted one eyebrow. “Even if I don’t buy it for a second.”

      “Are you under the impression that I am lying?”

      “Oh, I believe that you’re here on a scholarship. And I believe that said scholarship demands that you maintain fairly good academic standing. It's the implication that you struggle in any significant way with that maintenance that I doubt.” She spoke with the absolute confidence of a classical detective laying out their brilliant deduction.

      Kanaya hunched her shoulders a bit. Whomever this person was, she was reading her like a favorite book.

      The woman produced a note pad from the front of her dress and began writing as she continued: “Here. Read the manifesto I’ve given you, and if anything about it resonates with you, even a little, here’s a list of a few other books and documents you can check out. Our next chapter meeting is Wednesday of next week at the public library on Oak Street. You can tell me what you think then.”

      “’Our’?”

      “NOW, the National Organization for Women. I’m sure you’ve heard of us; we’ve been all over the news lately.” She tore the page she had been writing on and passed it to Kanaya, tucking the note pad back into her bra.

      Kanaya scanned over the list: a short series of itemized titles and authors, none of which were familiar to her. At the bottom, she saw a name written without an accompanying title, followed by a string of digits. “’Rose Lalonde’, is it?” she asked.

      “When you sign up for membership, the form will ask if someone referred you to the organization. I wanted to ensure that you’ll spell my name correctly,” she explained.

      Kanaya relaxed her posture and gave an amused smile of her own. “You seem to be quite certain that there is no question as to whether or not I will join your organization.”

      Rose shrugged her shoulders. “Let’s just say that I know a kindred spirit when I see one.” She tilted her head, looking Kanaya over top to bottom before looking into her eyes again. “You have the look of a woman that has had a week’s fill of dealing with men within the past fifteen minutes.”

      Kanaya chuckled. “It would appear that my face is prone to revealing much about my emotional state.”

      Rose put a hand on her own hip. “And here I was, about to give credit to my keen intuition. You and I should play a few hands of Poker someday. You do have my telephone number now, so that can certainly be arranged.”

      “Yes, that was going to be my next question, actually,” Kanaya said, turning her attention to the list once more.

      “That list is incomplete,” said Rose. “I figured that once you got a taste, your innate intellectual curiosity would get the better of you and drive you to call me to seek out more literature of this nature.” She shifted her weight to her other side. “Failing that, should you find absolutely nothing that I have to offer even marginally intriguing, I foresee that you’d want to call me to demand that I buy you a conciliatory root beer float as penance for having wasted your time.” She shifted her weight again. “Or, just maybe, I thought that you and I could be friends,” she teased, passing another copy of her document to another passerby.

      Kanaya suddenly felt as if the temperature outside had risen ten degrees. She had been dealing with the advances of men and boys since she was twelve years old, and had become accustomed to this particular sort of bold, brazen behavior from them, but this was the first time she could recall a woman taking such an approach. For a brief instant, she wondered what ulterior motives Rose might have other than simply pursuing a friendship, as she’d stated. She quickly pushed those thoughts out of her mind.

      “Very well,” she finally said. “My name is Kanaya Maryam. It has been a pleasure, Miss Lalonde.”

      “The pleasure’s all mine, Kanaya. And may I say, that is a beautiful name.” Rose bowed her head slightly. “Also, it’s Ms. Lalonde, if you please. But you can just call me Rose.”

      Kanaya closed her eyes briefly as she nodded in compliance. “Certainly, Rose. Thank you for the extra-curricular reading,” she said, turning away to leave the rally.

      “So I’ll see you next Wednesday?”

      “I promise nothing of the sort!” Kanaya called out, smiling from ear to ear.

      “Oh, we are DEFINITELY playing Poker someday!” Rose called back.

      After she had moved what she believed to be an appropriate distance from the demonstration, she looked at the copy of the manifesto, and at the handwritten list. She mentally drafted a schedule that would allow her to fit some recreational reading in between her studies, for she certainly planned to read every item on this slip of paper. Though she wasn't fully prepared to admit it, she was most intrigued by the name at the bottom, her eyes lingering over it as a faint trace of lavender perfume emanating from the page drifted into her senses.

      Without realizing it, she had already memorized the number.


	2. As We Go Marching, Marching

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanaya finds herself swept up in a world that seemed so distant to her mere weeks ago. What else can she learn? And why does Rose insist on wearing those awful leather boots in public?

_Damn that Rose Lalonde._

      Kanaya didn’t mean that sincerely, of course, but the words certainly crossed her mind more than once as she rode the bus downtown, pondering the ways in which her life had seemed far less complex just over a week ago. Though she would never admit it out loud, her initial motivation for reading through the list was less concerned with absorbing the material on its own merits and more for the sake of having something to talk to Rose about if she ever saw her again.

      And so, as she said she would, she read. First the document she’d been given directly, then whatever on the list she could find at the university’s library and social groups, then whatever cross-references she might find therein. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, but somewhere in the middle of reading The Feminine Mystique, she found herself completely hooked. Somewhere between the chapter on the formation of the Idealized Housewife during the second world war and the chapter on children’s growing lack of personal fulfillment coinciding with their mothers, she found something that rang true with what she had gleaned from her mother’s life and her own. She recalled the feeling of relief she had in knowing that this book’s popularity had been steadily growing, knowing that its themes and messages resonated with so many other women the way that it did with her. A certain sisterhood of solidarity, she mused. Understood, if unseen.

      As surely as Rose had predicted, Kanaya felt compelled to seek out more.

 _Damn that Rose Lalonde._ Kanaya smiled to herself as she considered asking for that conciliatory root beer float anyway.

      The bus pulled into its stop and Kanaya made her way to the rear exit. Less than a block away was the Oak Street Library, and on the sidewalk were a few folded signs advertising the meeting. She took a deep breath, shook her head, and took a few seconds to compose herself before proceeding. She hoped that she was appropriately dressed for the occasion.

      As she got closer to the library, she noticed the growing density of women idly chatting outside. She recognized a few faces from school, but for the most part the women were unfamiliar to her. Scanning over the crowd, she felt her heart jump into her throat as she spotted that distinctive blonde bob she’d been looking for. She reflexively adjusted her clothes and she looked Rose’s outfit over. She was wearing another simple, lightly colored dress, and Kanaya noted that once again she was wearing those boots that seemed to clash with this outfit even more than the last one. In spite of this, her eyes were just as dazzling as she’d recalled.

      Kanaya felt herself hesitate for a moment as she noticed that Rose was speaking with another young woman with long, voluminous raven hair. They hadn’t spoken since their first meeting; would it be appropriate to interrupt this conversation? Would Rose even remember her? Was there some sort of protocol she should be observing in this situation?

      Of course, Kanaya knew that she was almost certainly overthinking the situation, but this knowledge didn’t seem to prevent her from doing so. Fortunately, her concerns were fully allayed when Rose looked away from the person she had been speaking with, meeting Kanaya’s eyes and waving her over. All at once, Kanaya felt emboldened in her actions and flustered in her thoughts. She took the cue and hurried over to the pair.

      Rose and the other woman stepped over to allow Kanaya to join them. “So glad to see you made it!” she said. She motioned to the other person. “This is Aradia Megido. Aradia, this is that girl I was telling you about, Kanaya Maryam.”

      “Pleased to meet ya,” said Aradia, suddenly and forcefully shaking Kanaya’s hand.

      Kanaya muttered a response that she almost immediately forgot, having been briefly lost in thoughts of Rose telling other people about her.

      Aradia looked Kanaya over, seeming to size her up. “Yup,” she declared. “She’s definitely the ‘Bread-and-Roses’ type.” She looked at Rose again. “I’m gonna go round up the other girls. I’ll see you both ‘round!” With that, she quickly vanished into the crowd.

      “Aradia works as a housekeeper for the City Central Hotel, and she and her co-workers are working at unionizing their support staff,” Rose explained. “You’ll hear more about that at the meeting.” She checked her watch. “Speaking of which, if we want to get decent seats together, we should head in now and beat the rush.”

      Kanaya felt a certain lightness at hearing Rose say the word ‘together’. Relief, she told herself. Relief that she would not be thrust into this wholly unfamiliar environment without a friendly face to act as a guide. Relief that she won’t have to navigate this strange new terrain on her own. Relief. “Then let us make haste,” she said, following Rose into the library.

      “How far down the list did you get?” Rose asked as they walked.

      “’Notes from the First Year’ is the last one I’d finished,” Kanaya answered.

      “And I can only assume that the reason you haven’t called is that you’ve been so thoroughly engrossed as to have not found the time?” Rose held the door of the presentation room open for Kanaya.

      “The phone in my dormitory house is…very frequently in use,” Kanaya offered as she passed through the doorway. The statement, while factually accurate, wasn’t entirely true. Whenever an opportunity had presented itself for Kanaya to call, she found herself unable to think of what she wanted to say. She wasn’t certain why this person, who had been a stranger to her mere weeks ago, had such a profound effect on her articulacy.

      The two took seats near the front of the room. “Well, I’m glad you made it, for what it’s worth. One of the events we’ve been planning is a march through downtown to protest the fact that every newspaper in town refuses to hire female journalists. You should join us, if you have time.”

      Kanaya shifted her weight uncomfortably. “I appreciate the invitation, but I’m not certain if I’m ready to commit myself to something so…visible just yet.”

      Rose nodded. Other people had begun filling the room and the empty seats around them. “I can understand that. Not everyone takes to public demonstrations so readily.” She tilted her head. “Still, I think you might be more prepared than you think.”

      “Is that your keen intuition talking again?” Kanaya smirked.

      Rose returned the smile. “Something like that. I don’t want to pressure you into something you’re not comfortable with, though. Just…think it over, okay?”

      “I will, but I doubt that my mind will change.” Kanaya looked around herself. “It looks like things are about to get started. Is there anything I’m supposed to do?”

      “Not really. And feel free to ask any questions you might have. Our chapter isn’t especially rigid when it comes to meeting protocols and the like.”

      Kanaya felt herself become more at ease. “That’s reassuring,” she said.

      At the front of the room, the chair of the meeting walked up to a podium set up. “If I could have everyone’s attention, please…”

* * *

      “So, what did you think?”

      Kanaya tapped her pen to the corner of her mouth, looking over the notes she had written down before answering. “Honestly, there were far fewer people in attendance than I had anticipated.”

      Rose nodded, sipping coffee from a styrofoam cup she’d filled for herself. “We’re not exactly the all-encompassing scourge that certain news outlets would have you believe. Are you disappointed?”

      Kanaya thought for a moment. “A little, I suppose. Though, I recognize it may be somewhat hypocritical of me to be such. Also, I was surprised to see that there were men in attendance.”

      “There’s always a handful. They usually stay pretty quiet and keep among themselves. Most of them won’t be back for another meeting.”

      Kanaya smiled. “I suppose it wasn’t what they were expecting either.”

      “Most likely not,” Rose shrugged. There’s a few who come by fairly regularly. The rest are mostly looking to see what all the fuss is about. Some are looking to cause trouble, but many of them lose their nerve once they’re actually here.”

      “Have there been any incidents?”

      “A couple that I’ve seen. They’ll heckle the chair, shout a few counter-slogans, and be promptly shown the door. Thankfully, I’ve yet to witness any major disruption on their part. For me, the worst are the ones who come by hoping to bring one of the other attendees home with them.”

       Kanaya scowled in disgust. “Are you serious?”

      “What’s curious is that each one that tries it acts as if he’s the first to ever have the idea. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been approached by some flake who’ll say something along the lines of ‘betcha didn’t expect to see a MAN at one of these things, didja?’” Rose said with a snicker.

      Kanaya giggled. “It’s surprising, though hardly shocking, that such men would expect to find fertile ground for that kind of approach to take root in a setting such as this.”

      Rose carried on. “Some of the men here are here for genuine reasons. They’re the ones that you’ll see back again at future meetings. They struggle to be taken seriously in this particular context, which I’m sure is more than a little jarring for a lot of them.”

      “You’ll forgive me if I find that my sympathies are somewhat limited, I’m sure.”

      “Of course.” Rose took another sip of her coffee. “Have you given any more thought to the march?”

      “I have,” said Kanaya, tucking her notebook into her purse. “and I’m afraid that my answer is unchanged. It would be too much of a distraction from my studies.”

      “You know,” Rose began. “You and I both go to the same school. I can assure you that it’s not difficult to balance the two obligations.”

      “Perhaps not for one as experienced as you appear to be, but I feel it’s appropriate to remind you that I’m still fairly uninitiated with all of this. Furthermore, it’s imperative that I maintain a high average –“

      “For your scholarship. I do recall.” Rose frowned. “Alright. If you can’t participate in the march yourself, could I perhaps tempt you to help me prepare for my own participation? I would enjoy having someone to collaborate on ideas for slogans and signs, and I promise it won’t take up too much of your academic time.”

      Kanaya looked at her for a moment. The idea of spending more time with Rose outside of public settings certainly held appeal. She couldn’t fully recall the last time she’d felt herself wanting to be in the company of another individual since she’d moved out of her mother’s home. Furthermore, she supposed, finding the necessary time to study and do coursework would surely not be THAT difficult.

      “Very well,” she finally answered.

      “Wonderful.” Rose again withdrew her notepad from her top and began writing on it. “I’ll give you my address, and you can call me to arrange a meeting. My sister isn’t home most evenings, but don’t be alarmed if she answers.” She tore the page from the pad and gave it to Kanaya.

      Kanaya looked over the slip of paper, the subtle fragrance of Rose’s lavender perfume wafting its way to her nose once again. She’d almost forgotten that particular scent. “Thank you,” she said, stashing it into her purse.

* * *

      Over the next two weeks, Kanaya found herself at Rose’s apartment on no fewer than eight separate occasions. Rose lived in fairly modest accommodations, her apartment being only a few steps up from “run down”. While no one would mistake it for anything resembling ‘luxurious’, it was certainly moreso than Kanaya’s single-room dorm at the university residence, if only by virtue of having a kitchen. During her second visit, she noticed that Rose was wearing shoes more befitting the rest of her clothes. By the third visit, Kanaya had finally met Rose’s sister Roxy. For some reason, she felt intimidated at the prospect of meeting a member of Rose’s family, but Roxy turned out to be an extremely personable individual who took an instant liking to Kanaya. After that, Kanaya’s visits became a daily routine during the week. The two would discuss literature and current events within the movement. Rose would tell stories of the activism she’d taken part in, while Kanaya would ruminate about her life being raised by a single mother, all the while coming up with ideas for slogans for the coming march, and discussing the possibilities for future events.

      And at some other point, though Kanaya couldn’t begin to determine precisely when nor how, she allowed herself to be convinced to take part in the march after all.

_Damn that Rose Lalonde._

      In spite of herself, Kanaya was truly excited by the idea of taking active part in the movement, a thrilled to be an active participant instead of the passive observer that she had always been. She felt ready to be counted among those that wanted to change the world, instead of waiting for it to change on its own. Rose had once referred to her as a kindred spirit, and Kanaya was eager to discover just how much they shared in common.

      Also, Kanaya couldn’t deny that the prospect of spending more time with Rose was no small motivator either.

      On the day of the march, Kanaya arrived at the muster point earlier than she had intended, once again arriving by bus. Her mind was swimming with a thousand separate concerns and anxieties. It was one thing to convince herself to come, but she found that it was another matter entirely to actually be here. In spite of all that she had learned from Rose, she still felt relatively uninitiated with the movement, and couldn’t shake the uncomfortable sensation of being the only rank amateur in a place filled with seasoned professionals.

      She scanned the crowd for Rose’s distinctive headband. If she could at least find her, she wouldn’t feel quite so alone here.

      “Kanaya Maryam?”

      Kanaya’s search was interrupted by a somewhat familiar voice, one that Kanaya had certainly heard before, but could not quite place at the moment. She turned to face the source and saw a bespectacled, colorfully dressed woman with a cephalopod necklace and seashell earrings, whom she recognized from the university.

      “Oh my god, it IS you! Do you remember me? We took Anthropology 207 together last spring!”

      Kanaya tilted her head, trying to recall the name. “…Feferi, is it?”

      “The one and only!” she beamed. “How are you faring?”

      “I’m quite well, thank you,” Kanaya answered. “And yourself?”

      “I’m doing swimmingly!” Feferi chirped, just as excitable as Kanaya recalled from their time sharing a class. “I gotta say, I didn’t think I’d be seeing you at something like this!”

      “Honestly, I feel very much that way myself,” Kanaya confessed, averting her gaze. “This is certainly unfamiliar ground for me.”

      “Well I think it’s groovy to see you out here expanding your horizons and sailing uncharted waters!” Feferi clapped her hands in front of her. “Sometimes it’s good to get your head out of the books and take a moment to breathe in that salty sea air!” She gave Kanaya a hearty pat on the back, causing her to stumble a little before righting herself. “So I gotta ask, what made you want to come out here and get your feet wet?”

      “I’m here with a friend of mine. Have you taken any classes with a Rose Lalonde?”

      “Oh yeah, I know Rose! She’s always at the meetings and comes out to every demonstration she can. She’s easily one of the most civic-minded women I’ve ever met. She’s bound to make waves of her own, for sure. No surprise that she’s lured you to something like this.”

      Kanaya briefly wondered what Feferi meant by ‘civic-minded’.

      “Hey! I think that’s her over there!” Feferi pointed over Kanaya’s head, and she turned herself around just a little too quickly to see where Feferi was pointing.

      Surely enough, there she was, once again wearing a light-colored outfit complemented by those awful leather boots that just didn’t seem to match any of her wardrobe.

      Feferi, ever the exuberant one, piped up again. “Hey! The three of us should march together!”

      Kanaya found herself too focused on Rose to give proper attention to what Feferi was saying. Rose noticed the pair and smiled as she moved to join them.

      “Kanaya! You’re here earlier than I expected.” She turned to Feferi. “And I see you’ve met Feferi.”

      “We had met prior to this, actually,” Kanaya said.

      “I was just telling Kanaya that we should form a pod for the march!” Feferi pumped her arms in excitement. “We can link arms and sing protest shanties together! Oh, it’d be so much FUN!”

      Kanaya and Rose exchanged what Kanaya dared allow herself to hope was a significant glance.

      “I see no reason why not,” Rose answered.

      “Yes, I’m all for this as well,” Kanaya agreed.

      “Splashing!” Feferi spun on the ball of her foot. “Hey! Looks like things are about to get started!” She pointed her right elbow outward. “Shall we, ladies?”

      Rose linked her arm with Feferi’s. “We wouldn’t want to be left behind, would we?” She offered her own elbow to Kanaya.

      Kanaya suddenly felt herself become short of breath. She hoped the other two wouldn’t notice as she tried her best to link with Roses’ arm as unceremoniously as possible. “Indeed not. It would be best to ‘go with the flow’.”

      “That’s the spirit!” Feferi exclaimed as the three moved to join the rest of the crowd.

      As the march got underway, the trio soon found themselves among a much larger crowd, their collective voices getting louder as they shared their chants and sang their anthems. Kanaya felt a certain elation for the opportunity to take part in something like this with such a large community. The feelings of trepidation she had upon arriving had all but vanished, replaced with emboldened feelings of pride and confidence.  

      Her left arm being linked with Rose certainly didn’t hurt matters either. Her entire left side felt warmer for the contact. She savored the sensation, and became acutely aware of the point where they were touching. It acted as an epicenter for even more positive feelings stirring within her. She felt more secure, more invigorated, more alive, more…more…

      Again she tried to push these thoughts from her mind. For a moment, she’d forgotten the words of the chant she’d repeated over 20 times, and had to stop and listen to the others around her to get back into the rhythm. Rose seemed to notice the interruption, and looked over to her. Kanaya felt her cheeks flush a little bit as she caught Rose’s eyes, immediately snapping her attention back to the march in front of her. In response, she could have sworn she felt Rose pull herself in just a little bit tighter. She wondered if this was just her imagination, or a part of her wishful thinking, before again pushing these thoughts from her mind.

      She looked at her again. There was something about the way the daylight caught Rose’s eyes that made Kanaya feel more emboldened, making her shouts louder and her pace livelier. In the back of her mind, a nagging thought about an upcoming exam appeared, but Kanaya quickly discarded it. Out here, on this day, for the first time since she was in elementary school, she dared have that most forbidden of thoughts: schoolwork could wait.

      The march carried on, and the enthusiasm of the demonstrators gradually waned. The pace slowed, the shouts dulled, the smiles faded, and even Feferi’s boisterous energy seemed to have lost some part of its ever-present spark. Kanaya, however, felt no worse for the wear. Although she knew that the march was about to reach the end of its route, she felt as if she could keep marching for hours. She unconsciously looked over at Rose, just in time to see her look away from her. At least, that’s what she wanted to believe had happened.

      These thoughts were getting increasingly frequent, and increasingly difficult to ignore. Not so difficult so as to be more difficult for Kanaya to confront them and fully consider the extent of their implications, of course. She couldn’t help but wonder if some small part of Rose was struggling with similar thoughts of her own.

      Once more she allowed herself to bask in the warmth she felt in her left side. For now, that would suffice.

* * *

      “Well, time for me to cast off,” said Feferi. “If I stay out in this sun much longer, there’ll be nothing left of me but fillets!”

      “Meeting you was a lovely experience, Feferi,” said Kanaya.

      “You too!” Feferi abruptly pulled Kanaya in for a hug. “You two take care of yourselves, and until next time, fair winds and following seas to both of you!”

      As soon as she was sure Feferi was out of earshot, she gave Rose a sideways glace. “Tell me honestly, does she always do that?”

      Rose responded with a half-lidded grin. “I haven’t the foggiest notion as to what you could possibly be referring.”

       “Then perhaps we should ask her where the nearest lighthouse is, so we can clear away that fog.”

      “Any directions she’d give us would be inscrutable without a bearing compass.”

      “And alas, it would appear that I have left all of my sextants at my mother’s home.”

      The two shared a giggle.

      Rose was the first to recenter the conversation. “Your first public demonstration of activism. How do you feel?”

      Kanaya thought for a moment. “It was a great deal more of a tiring effort than I had anticipated, owing in no small amount to the mistaken impression that the media depictions of these sorts of events tends to leave with the observing public. It all seems to belie the amount of effort that actually goes into demonstrations such as these.”

      Rose nodded in agreement. “I always feel simultaneously exhausted and exhilarated after a demonstration, moreso and in greater contrast if there’s physical effort beyond the rudimentary involved. And it was a bit of a relief that this particular march was relatively benign in terms of resistance.”

      Kanaya tilted her head. “Do these sorts of things typically attract a more confrontational response from the general public?”

      “It’s a bit of a gamble each time. Some of the people I know have been pelted by rocks and the like. I’ve been shouted at and called just about every pejorative one can call a woman, and once had to use a sign I was carrying to shield myself from an errant egg. It can get downright nasty at times.”

      Rose’s words struck something within Kanaya. So alluring was the romanticism of protest that she had forgotten the images she’d seen of brutalized protesters from past movements when she was younger. She suddenly felt as if she’d dodged a bullet at this march, given the precedent set by past protests of this nature.

      “Rose,” she said, “would it be alright if I spent some time back at your apartment? I believe that I am in need of some time to…decompress, and I’m not firmly convinced that my dormitory would make for ideal circumstances through which a lingering sense of compression could undo itself.”

      “I think I can be amenable to that,” Rose answered. “Roxy’s working late tonight, so we’ll have to take a cab, but at least we’ll have the place to ourselves for a while. Do you mind splitting the cost?”

      “Not at all.”

      It was only then that they’d noticed that they were the only two protestors left at the site. Rose headed toward a nearby payphone.

* * *

     At Rose’s apartment, she’d fixed a cup of coffee for herself and a cup of Earl Gray for Kanaya, and the two chatted and laughed into the evening. They swapped anecdotes of their various encounters with men over the years. Rose told Kanaya about a boy that Roxy had brought home who, upon meeting Rose, asked her on a date right in front of Roxy. Kanaya countered with her own story of a man her mother had brought to their house when she was 14 years old, only to drag him back out by his ear after he’d made remarks about Kanaya’s figure.

      The stories became less pointed over time, soon giving way to positive experiences they’d had. Kanaya spoke of a neighborhood boy named Karkat whom she kept out of trouble when they were children, who is one of the few people from her hometown who still sends her letters. Rose related a close friendship with a classmate named Dave, who, on the first day of school, took the fall for her when their teacher demanded to know who had left their shoes out of place, and whom she’d come to love like a brother.

      This gave way to more casual topics, and soon they found themselves simply conversing, not about feminism, not about activism, not about men, just idle conversation without pretense or expectation from either of them.  It was around then that Kanaya found an opportunity to ask about something that had been on her mind ever since they’d first met.

      “I’ve noticed something…peculiar about your wardrobe choices,” she began.

      “You want to know about the boots.” Rose spoke once again with that confidence of a brilliant scholar demonstrating their meticulously crafted conclusion. “You stare at them every time I wear them.”

      Kanaya smiled. “They don’t seem to match any of the outfits with which you choose to pair them. Surely you must realize this.”

      “And surely YOU must realize that by now, there must be some form of intent behind the clashing garments.”

      “And surely YOU must realize that I have already reached this conclusion, and that such reaching is precisely my impetus for asking about them.” Kanaya paused, leaning in closer to Rose’s face. “And furthermore, that was a weak feint.”

      Rose gave a slightly embarrassed smile and turned her gaze away. “Touché. You didn’t mention that you were so adept at fencing.”

      “Having the appropriate footwear certainly helps,” said Kanaya, not missing a beat.

      Rose frowned, and Kanaya could sense a degree of hesitation coming from her. “Do you know how some men will have handkerchiefs hanging out of their back pockets?”

      Kanaya thought for a moment. “I can not say that I have noticed, actually. Has that become a newly fashionable trend?”

      Rose squirmed a bit in her seat. “It’s meant to be a kind of…signal, for other men.” She took a long sip from her coffee mug. “Other men who might share…commonalities, o-or…preferences, about which they may wish to be…subtle.”

      The gears were turning inside Kanaya’s head. Was Rose saying what she thought she was saying?

      “When I saw you staring at my boots on the day that we met, I thought that perhaps you…” Rose let her voice trail off as she leaned in closer to Kanaya, eyes cast downward in what Kanaya observed to be a rare moment of uncertainty.

      Kanaya could scarcely begin to explain the catalyst for what happened next. Perhaps it was the lingering intoxication of the excitement of the march, perhaps it was a byproduct of the emotional intimacy they had been sharing that evening, or perhaps it was simply the culmination of all the thoughts and feelings she’d been trying to deny herself. Whatever it was that drove her ceased to matter, as she closed the distance between herself and Rose, and pressed her lips against hers.

      It was an awkward kiss, one typical of someone still unfamiliar with the act, and Kanaya immediately felt self-conscious over the knowledge that surely her inexperience was plainly on display. Fortunately, Rose was receptive, and more than willing to pick up the slack, returning the gesture with her own, more practiced technique. Kanaya felt a sudden rush as Rose’s lips moved against hers, and she instinctively matched their rhythm. Her eyes opened prematurely to see that Rose’s were still closed, prompting her to close hers again. For a few precious seconds longer they lingered, until finally pulling away from each other.

      They sat in silence. Kanaya’s chest heaved slightly with her breathing, gazing into Rose’s eyes that were filled with a look characteristic of someone who’d just solved a particularly vexing puzzle.

      “Well,” Rose finally said. “I guess that answers that.”

     Kanaya said nothing, noticing that Rose's perfume smelled stronger than ever in that moment.


	3. The Woman-Identified Woman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kanaya and Rose find bliss in each other's company, but trouble looms over the horizon as shifting political tides reveal an unexpected threat.

      The proceeding four weeks were the happiest of Kanaya’s life.

      Even as winter drew ever nearer, she felt warmer than ever before. An elated, rapturous warmth enveloped her entire being until she felt utterly consumed by it. She could only imagine how she might have felt if only Rose had come into her life sooner!

      As had become routine, Kanaya found herself flying through that evening’s homework, only taking time for a single proofread for each assignment before immediately setting out of her dorm for the evening. Rose would be waiting for her by the front doors by now, and she didn’t want to detain her for even a second longer than necessary. It was Thursday, which meant that Rose would be borrowing her sister’s car for the evening, giving them unrestricted mobility throughout the city. It also meant that they couldn’t stay out as late as perhaps Kanaya would prefer. She didn’t mind. Whenever she was with Rose, time stood still.

      Kanaya practically leaped through the door to the stairwell to see Rose patiently waiting outside the front door. Upon seeing her, Kanaya smiled and met her eyes immediately. Rose smiled in turn and took a step away from the door. Quickly they moved to the car, sealed away from the rest of the world. With hardly a word between them, Rose started the car up as Kanaya gently pressed the side of her face into Rose’s shoulder briefly before settling into her seat, resting her left hand on Rose’s right hand operating the gearshift. She savored the feeling of Rose’s fingers interlocked with hers.

      Once Rose had hit a decent cruising speed, she lifted Kanaya’s hand and kissed it. Kanaya’s heart leaped into her throat at the sensation of Rose’s plush lips against her skin.

      “Where are we off to tonight, dearest?” Kanaya asked.

      “I thought we could try that new café that’s opened downtown.” She didn’t take her eyes off the road. “You know I can’t turn down a fresh cup of coffee.”

      “Nor I a fine cup of tea,” Kanaya agreed. In truth, it didn’t matter to her where they went, so long as they went together.

      “Shall we, then?” asked Rose.

      “We shall,” answered Kanaya, tightening her grip on Rose’s hand for emphasis.

* * *

       The dimly lit café was…atmospheric, if Kanaya had to choose a single word. Round wooden tables dotted the hardwood floor, accenting the sunflower wallpaper lining the area. The smell of hot, freshly brewed coffee dominated the air, with Kanaya only barely able to detect the faintest aroma of burning insense. A jukebox completed the ambience with softly playing music. It seemed that this new restaurant was having no trouble finding business. Rose and Kanaya took seats at a vacant table, and before long a server in a plain color mini dress arrived, notepad in hand to take their order.

      “I’ll have your house medium roast coffee, black,” said Rose.

      “And I will have mint tea, if you please,” Kanaya added.

      “Ginger or honey with your tea, miss?”

      “Ginger, no honey.”

      “And can I interest you ladies in one of our freshly made sandwiches today?” the server asked.

      “No, thank you,” Rose and Kanaya responded in unison, before exchanging a glance and smile.

      The server nodded. “So that’s one black medium roast coffee, and one mint tea with ginger. Should just be a couple of minutes!”

      No sooner had the server left to bring the order to the kitchen than Kanaya and Rose began discussing the walk-together programs being initiated by NOW.

      “I had heard that there have been incidents of violence in some of the larger urban centers,” said Kanaya.

      “Things are starting to get hairy all around the country,” Rose frowned. “It would seem as if the expected backlash is right on schedule.”

      Kanaya sighed. “And here I am, right in the thick of it.” She turned her gaze downward, doing her best to resist frowning as well. “It was not that long ago that the only thing weighing on my mind was my next paper’s approaching deadline.”

      Rose tilted her head. “Are you having any regrets?”

      Kanaya met her eyes, and her smile became more earnest. “Only that I did not get involved sooner,” she replied.

      “Glad to hear it,” Rose said as she crossed her legs under the table, purposefully dragging the side of her foot along the length of Kanaya’s leg as she did so.

      Kanaya felt her cheeks flush as she squirmed slightly in her seat. She knew that Rose rather enjoyed getting a rise out of her in public settings like this, and Kanaya couldn’t bring herself to ask her to stop even if she had wanted to.

      The server returned with their drinks, setting each one in front of them before rushing away to serve another table. The interruption was over as quick as it began, and Kanaya was free to let her thoughts linger on Rose’s touch.

      Of course, Kanaya was aware of the risks involved with any kind of public display of affection with another woman. The political climate wasn’t especially different here than in the rest of the country concerning such affairs, and with the pushback against feminist movements that was becoming more pointed lately, Kanaya was not about to tempt fate any more than necessary. She knew that Rose’s attitude was ever slightly more brazen, but both felt confident, for the time being, that their interests were best served by remaining discreet. As such, these tiny instances of affection would suffice. She sighed contentedly and fluttered her eyelashes.

      Rose just smiled, clearly pleased with herself for coaxing these reactions from her. She set her mug down in front of her. “How’s your tea?”

      Kanaya realized that she hadn’t yet touched it, and immediately took a sip. She hummed and blinked a few times. “Surprisingly sweet.” She smacked her lips. “I think they put some syrup in their mint brew.” She grimaced. “I don’t think I like it.”

      Rose leaned in. “Oh? And here I thought you liked it when things were…” she drew her foot along the length of Kanaya’s leg again. “…sickly sweet.”

      Kanaya could barely contain herself, leaning in to meet Rose’s gaze. “Some things can afford to be…saccharine,” she said quietly. “But lately, I’ve been finding that my palate demands something with just a bit of…” she stole a glance at Rose’s lips. “…spice.”

      Rose’s grin widened as she exhaled slowly, allowing Kanaya to briefly bask in the warmth of her breath. “Well then,” she murmured. “I guess we’ll just have to find something more suited to your tastes.”

      Kanaya shifted in her seat. “Any particular or specific suggestions?” she said just above a breath.

      Rose slumped in her chair, her grin quickly returning to normal. “How about a milkshake?”

      Kanaya had to blink a few times to snap herself out of the moment. “Milkshake. Of course.” She leaned back. “Certainly, something ideally suited to offset the overbearing sweetness of this tea.”

      Rose chuckled. “I’m not hearing a ‘no’.”

      “And you won’t, for that matter. At least with a milkshake, the sweetness comes as part of the array of reasonable expectations.”

      “Indeed,” said Rose. “Also, we can split a basket of fries. I could use some salt.”

      “You’re not concerned with exceeding your monetary means?”

      Rose smirked. “When it comes to salt, no price is too steep.”

      Kanaya gave her a sly glare, which she returned with a knowing raise of her eyebrow. Moments like this meant more to Kanaya than she had the capacity to express, even with her penchant for circumlocutory verbosity. “Shall we head off, then?”

      “Certainly,” said Rose as she pulled some bills from her purse. Before long, they were back on the road.

* * *

       At Rose’s suggestion, the pair got their milkshakes and fries from a drive-through, not wanting to spend more time than necessary in a second restaurant. It became evident to Kanaya that Rose had something very particular in mind to spend the remainder of the evening. As the night sky descended upon them, Rose would not reveal their destination, allowing the path she took to eventually speak for itself. Kanaya barely noticed, with lively conversation intermittently broken up with loving, meaningful silence as they simply enjoyed each other’s presence.

      Kanaya felt utterly ecstatic. Finally, she felt as if she understood that feeling her friends had tried to describe to her when talking about their own dates. With Rose, she felt an unconditional affection and affirmation of herself, and the sheer amount of joy that she brought into her life felt positively narcotic. She could tell, from Rose’s actions and words, that she was feeling the same way.

      She brought Rose’s hand to hers to kiss it. Rose’s soft hum was all the affirmation she needed.

      Finally, they pulled over to the edge of a clearing on the outskirts of the city.

      “Where are we?” Kanaya asked.

      “A spot I’ve been meaning to show you for a while,” Rose said as she opened her car door.

      Kanaya opened her own door. “Oh?”

      Rose was looking upwards at the night sky. “Look,” she whispered. “On a clear night, you can see hundreds of stars from here.”

      Kanaya looked up, and couldn’t help but gasp at the sight before her. As Rose had said, twinkling starlight reached out in every direction for as far as they eye could see. Every constellation that Kanaya knew, every marker and every waypoint, stretching out endlessly into the pitch expanse. She twirled about, taking in the splendor from every direction she could, smiling wider than she could ever recall. “Oh my goodness, Rose…” she whispered in turn. “I haven’t seen a sky this magnificent since I left my mother’s home!”

      “I found this spot in my freshman year,” Rose said. “It’s the second most beautiful thing I’ve seen since Roxy and I moved here.” She was moving closer to Kanaya.

      “Only the second?” Kanaya asked, twirling herself again to look at Rose.

      “Only the second,” she repeated, drawing herself even closer before wrapping her arms loosely around Kanaya’s shoulders.

      “And what, would you say, is—“

      Rose didn’t let Kanaya finish. She took her lips into her own and wasted no time slipping her tongue into Kanaya’s mouth. Kanaya placed her hands above Rose’s waist and pulled her closer, gently biting her lower lip. Over the weeks she had gotten a lot of practice in and now felt very confident in her abilities to match Rose move for move. For a long time, their lips continued to dance and play with each other, taking turns nibbling and pivoting against each other, pleased hums escaping their mouths in sync.

      Lost in the moment, Rose stumbled onto the grass below her, giggling as she let herself fall unto her back, throwing her arms up as Kanaya knelt down to meet her, rolling to her side to resume kissing her. Rose rolled herself above Kanaya, and nuzzled herself into the side of her neck to plant more kisses. Kanaya drew a pleased breath before moving her own lips to Rose’s neck.

      In time, though Kanaya couldn’t quite recall how, they both ended up on their backs lying in opposite directions, each cradling the other’s face as they both gazed upwards to the sky. There they lay, completely silent but for the sound of their own breathing.

      “Rose…” Kanaya broke the silence.

      “What is it, Kanaya?”

      “…Thank you.”

      Rose stirred where she was lying.

      Kanaya continued. “Thank you for a wonderful evening. Thank you for showing me this place. Thank you for being in my life. Thank you.”

      They lay in silence for another moment before Rose responded. “Thank YOU, Kanaya. I truly can’t remember the last time I felt this happy, this fulfilled, this…loved.”

      Kanaya twisted her head to face Rose, who was still looking upwards. “You are loved, my dear,” she said. “And you always will be.”

      Rose took a breath and turned to face Kanaya. “I love you too, Kanaya.”

      Kanaya’s heart felt as though it could burst at any second. The whole rest of the world had melted away in this moment, and all that mattered, all that she could ever want or need, was right here next to her. She kissed Rose’s chin.

      If Kanaya had known what the future held, perhaps she might have stayed in this moment a little longer. Perhaps she might have allowed herself to remain lost in this rapturous feeling for a few more minutes. Perhaps she would have savored every sensation throughout her entire being even moreso than she had been.

      But alas, Kanaya did not know what the future held. She did not know that this would be the last peaceful night that she would know for a long time.

* * *

      On Friday, Kanaya immediately noticed that something was amiss.

      The warm smile that usually greeted Kanaya on Rose’s face as she approached in the University’s quad was absent. In its place was a very tightly held frown, pursed as if Rose’s lips were set to fall from her face at any moment. When at last their eyes met, Rose’s lips turned to a forced and artificial smile, one that Kanaya knew was practically performative. Rose was smiling not out of genuine feelings of happiness, but, as many of the social theorists Kanaya had been reading would have put it, to fulfill an unspoken social contract between the two women.

      Kanaya wasn’t buying it for a second. For all of Rose’s teasing about Poker on the day they first met, Rose’s current façade was as evident to Kanaya as the changing of the seasons. But, as confident as she was that something was bothering Rose, she felt wholly unsure as to how to address the matter. After all, she reasoned, everyone has their days where they simply felt unhappy, and if anyone had earned a respite from the ubiquitous expectation of a woman’s pleasant agreeableness, it was most certainly Rose. Furthermore, Kanaya thought, if whatever was troubling Rose were something serious, surely she would, in her own time, share it with her.

      Still, as the evening progressed and as Rose showed no sign of relaxing her demeanor, Kanaya found herself feeling sympathetically tense. She couldn’t shake her unease as conversations felt terse and uncomfortable, overcome with a quiet distress as they went through the motions of the night.

      Finally, as they were heading back to Kanaya’s dorm, she finally worked up the nerve to address the matter.

      “Is everything alright, Rose?”

      Rose’s brow lifted. Kanaya couldn’t tell if the she was surprised at the question or startled from a train of thought. “Hm? Yes, everything’s alright. Why do you ask?”

      “You seem unusually distant tonight.”

      Rose smiled. “It’s nothing to be concerned about, Kanaya. Really.”

      “Very well,” said Kanaya. “But I hope that you’re aware that if something is bothering you, I am willing to listen to whatever it may be.”

      “I appreciate that, but I promise you that I’m fine,” Rose said as she braked in front of the building. “I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

      Kanaya squeezed Rose’s hand before stepping out of the car. “I will see you then!”

      As she climbed the stairs back into her room, Kanaya felt a chill run through her spine. She wanted to believe Rose. She wanted to accept that whatever change in her behavior was not worth considering, or at least not for this long. She wanted to believe that everything truly was all right. But in the back of her mind, something was nagging her, clawing for her attention against her own better judgment.

      Or was it truly her better judgement? Kanaya scarcely knew at this point. By the time she was inside her room, she was exhausted. She slumped against her bed, too tired to wash off her makeup, too tired to study, too tired to think of anything but Rose and whatever was troubling her.

      The days passed, turning into weeks, and Rose continued to be stiff and distracted. Any attempt by Kanaya to address the matter was met with Rose’s brand of obstinacy. Half-hearted assurances that nothing was wrong, forced smiles that lasted slightly longer than necessary, and perhaps an insincere squeeze of Kanaya’s hand. Kanaya felt increasingly unsure of herself as this carried on. Was this normal? After all, Kanaya had never dated anyone before, and didn’t have much in terms of lived experience to draw from. Was this just part of the ebb and flow of romance? Kanaya didn’t have a solid basis of reference. A couple of paperback novels timidly purchased from the drugstore surely could not have adequately prepared her for a genuine relationship of this nature.

      Ugly thoughts began to swirl in Kanaya’s head as she tried to sleep in the proceeding nights. Memories of overheard conversations, news reports, and literature concerning lesbian women resurfaced, reminding her of the grim presentation of such women. Brutish, lustful, and angry women of rapacious appetites and licentious morals. But it was impossible that Rose, _her_ Rose, could possibly fit that description.

      Wasn’t it?

      It was on one such evening that Kanaya, exhausted and restless, suddenly stormed from her bedroom to the hall’s shared restroom.  She had unconsciously decided to splash her face with cold water, vainly hoping it might break her free of these thoughts and imaginings. As she did so, she studied her reflection in the mirror.

      She hadn’t realized she’d been crying before then.

      She took a deep breath before reaching for some tissues.  Fire lit in her eyes as her expression shifted, and she marched from the bathroom directly to the main lobby’s telephone room. With fervent determination, she dialed.

      One ring. For the first time in months, Kanaya wasn’t mentally rehearsing her side of the conversation. She knew precisely what she needed to say and nothing would stop her from saying it.

      Two rings. Kanaya took a moment to straighten her posture as she crossed her legs underneath her nightgown.

      Her shoulders tensed as she heard the click of the phone being answered in the middle of the third ring. She smacked her lips just before the voice on the other end began to speak.

      “What’s the big idea callin’ ‘ere in the middle of the night, wiseguy?”

      “Roxy!” Kanaya’s whole body tensed.

      “Well it ain’t the tooth fairy, I’ll tell ya that much!” Roxy grumbled.

      “I—I am terribly sorry to have woken you, Roxy,” Kanaya stammered, her composure suddenly and completely failing. “Please, I need to speak with Rose.”

      Kanaya heard Roxy groan as she parsed what Kanaya had said. “Kanny? Is that you?”

      “I am afraid so,” Kanaya answered.

      “Kanny!” Roxy’s voice suddenly beamed with joy. “Oh gosh, I didn’t know it was you! Yeah, hold on, I’ll go get her.”

      Kanaya held the receiver slightly away from her face in anticipation of what she knew was coming. “Hey Rose! ROSE! ROSEYYY!” came Roxy’s voice. “GET THE PHONE, IT’S YOUR SWEETIE-MUFFIN!” Kanaya put the receiver back to her ear. “She’ll just be a sec!”

      A few seconds later, Kanaya heard another click, followed by Rose’s voice. “Thank you, Roxy, I’ve got it.”

      “You girls play nice now!” Roxy said cheerfully, before hanging up her line.

      “Kanaya, what’s the matter?”

      “Rose, I need to speak with you, and I am afraid that it can not wait. How soon can you be at my dorm?”

      “It’s one o’clock in the morning, Kanaya,” Rose answered, still groggy. “I only just fell asleep.”

      “Yes, I am aware. But I need to talk to you and I feel with utmost certainty that this is a conversation best had in person. The telephone is much too impersonal.”

      Kanaya heard Rose sigh. “And you already know that Roxy’s awake, so I can’t use the excuse that I don’t want to wake her to ask for the car.”

      “I also would have been willing to pay your taxi fare upon arrival,” Kanaya quickly added.

      “And that level of tenacity indicates that there’s no talking you out of this,” said Rose.

      “There most certainly is not,” confirmed Kanaya. “Rose, please.”

      Kanaya heard some shuffling on Rose’s end of the line. “Alright. Give me a few minutes to get dressed and I’ll be right over.”

* * *

      For 15 minutes, Kanaya waited by the front door. It was dark outside, and Kanaya couldn’t help but to examine every figure she saw walking by, hoping for each to be Rose headed her way. Most were students drunkenly stumbling about campus trying to find their residences. With each one that she saw, she grew increasingly impatient.

      Finally, one of the figures passed under a streetlamp and Kanaya caught a glimpse of Rose’s face. On another night, the sight would have left her overjoyed, but not tonight. She let her inside and the pair made haste to Kanaya’s room.

      Before Kanaya could speak, Rose began: “I’m sorry, Kanaya. I know that I haven’t been myself lately, and you deserve an explanation.”

      Kanaya wasn’t satisfied. “I don’t feel as though I should have to go to such elaborate lengths to the ends of coaxing it out of you, either.”

      Rose sighed. “Indeed not.”

      “And if you’re not willing to tell me what’s on your mind, you can at least tell me that much. These past several days have been nothing short of hellish on me.”

      “That’s fair,” Rose frowned. “I suppose I just…thought it might be easier this way.”

      “Easier?”

      Rose pulled her shoulders inward. “Have you heard the interview that Betty Friedman gave to the Monitor recently?”

      “I haven’t,” answered Kanaya. “What did she say?”

      Rose sat in silence. Several times she adjusted her posture, drew her breath as if to speak, then exhaled in quiet exasperation. On at least one occasion her voice stammered somewhat before the silence resumed.

      Kanaya was unfazed. “Rose?”

      “They’re calling it ‘The Lavender Menace’. It’s not just Friedman, it’s Brownmiller, it’s…there’s a lot of people saying it. They’re saying that lesbians are hurting the movement, that we—” Rose drew a breath. “Kanaya, they’re starting to blacklist certain groups from NOW, disavowing some of the bigger organizations because of their prominent lesbian figures, talking about us like we’re the enemy. “

      “Is this what’s got you so upset?”

      Rose stared at her feet. “They see us as a threat. I guess I thought, naively, I suppose, that NOW was intended to be for _all_ women.”

      Kanaya sidled herself closer to Rose. She did her best to be sound sympathetic, but firm. “I understand the underpinning sense of betrayal, but I do not believe it is fair to transfer any resultant feelings of animosity towards me.”

      Rose shook her head. “It’s not that. Believe me, what I feel for you could not be further from anything resembling animosity.  I just…” She blinked a few times before turning her gaze towards Kanaya. “I hate the idea that I’ve been dragging you into all of this just as it seems as if everyone is conspiring to excise women like us.” She straightened her posture. “Even when we’re being discreet, I know that I’ve garnered a reputation for myself. I guess I had hoped that maybe it wasn’t too late for you to save yourself from this.”

      Kanaya put a hand on Rose’s knee. “Rose, you haven’t been dragging me into anything. Do you truly think that after everything I’ve learned, that I would voluntarily act outside of my own agency in these matters?”

      “I suppose not,” Rose answered, her voice cracking slightly. “But I’ve seen things that have happened to other girls. I’ve seen them harassed, beaten, taken away…” Her voice trailed off. “I know that no matter what, Roxy will support me unconditionally and I’ll always have a place I can go home to. I’m lucky that way. But I can’t pretend that I don’t know how dangerous it is for other people. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if…”

      “Rose.” Kanaya pulled her hand back into her lap and sat up straight. “Do you trust me?

      “Do I…? Of course I trust you.”

      “Then I feel as if it would behoove you to place your trust that I know what I’m doing. Through your tutelage, my eyes have been opened to so much, and it would be to no one’s benefit if I were to waiver, even for a moment.” She took one of Rose’s hands into hers. “I want you. I want this. And if Betty Friedman or Susan Brownmiller or whomever it may be come to believe that their liberation will come at our expense, I will stand by your side and prove to them their folly firsthand, if only you give me that chance.” She pulled Rose’s hand to her chest. “I am not afraid.”

      A tear fell from each of Rose’s eyes. “Kanaya…”

      Kanaya gently set Rose’s hand down as she drew her face nearer to hers, pulling her in for a passionate embrace. Rose responded in kind, wrapping one arm around Kanaya’s waist and guiding her legs over the edge of her bed. Kanaya made a motion for the top button of Rose’s blouse. Rose pressed her body into Kanaya’s. With each deliberate motion, the intensity of their passion grew, taking them further than they’d ever gone, the burning fire of their lust for each other bringing heat to the cold night air outside Kanaya’s room.

      When at last they were satisfied both to completion, Rose allowed herself to fall asleep in Kanaya’s arms. In the morning she made haste back to Roxy’s car, not bothering to brush off the layer of snow that had accumulated as they slept. Kanaya, mind heavy with the events of the previous night, struggled to remember which of her course materials she would need for the day, before it finally occurred to her that it was Sunday. She toppled back into bed, still basking in the glow of what had transpired, savoring the lingering scent of Rose’s perfume still embedded in her sheets.

      She had meant every word. She was not afraid. Not so long as she had Rose.

* * *

      “Thank you for bringing this to my attention, Mr. Ampora. I assure you, we will get to the bottom of this matter posthaste.”

      “Thank _you,_ Mr. Zahhak.” Cronus grabbed his leather jacket from the coat tree in the dean’s office before exiting.

      Horuss paged his assistant with the intercom mounted on his desk. “Miss Leijon, arrange a meeting with the faculty advisory committee at once.” He stood and turned to the filing cabinet behind him, opening its second drawer.

      “Topic for discussion?” came the reply over the intercom.

      “Reports of lewd conduct on campus,” said Horuss, searching through the filing drawer. “And a potential breach of our student admission agreement’s morality clause.”

      He withdrew two file folders: Lalonde, Rose and Maryam, Kanaya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am truly, deeply, very sorry for how long it took me to get this chapter out. I burned myself out on fanfiction after the two fic exchanges I took part in, and then I got stuck on several parts of this chapter. Fortunately, I seem to have worked through this slump and with any luck, it should be smooth sailing for the final two chapters. Thank you all for your patience, I really hope you enjoyed this chapter and will stay tuned for what's next!

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks and shoutouts to the following individuals:  
> \- MadameHardy, who guided my research into second-wave feminism and the public sentiments of the era  
> \- dietcokeenthusiast, who continues to offer her brilliant insight into my works as she betas them.


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